The End of Pirate's Age
by iamthomasrainey
Summary: Lost hopes and treason. Unbearable mistakes and swollen pain. Elizabeth could have never foreseen a tragedy that could - and would - become her own life. A scenery for a PotC VI. [Sparrabeth]
1. Chapter 1

**1.**

**Elizabeth Swann**

_SLOW AND HEAVY WAVES_. _**Heavy**_. She didn't know for how long she'd been watching the sea by her bedroom's window. There was a teacup on her hands, the drink was not actually the English tea she should've been drinking. No, it was a strong and bold _rum _instead.

It was early in the morning and she couldn't care less.

_**Five days.**_ Looking towards the horizon, there was a haunting feeling resting inside her chest. Five more days until his upcoming. Last time she saw him, ten years ago, he seemed more distressed than he had ever been and Elizabeth knew it was entirely her fault. However, _again_, she couldn't care less.

After all, he left her on an island to live a life that was not hers, never meant to be. Not since they first sailed away from Port Royal. Not since she finally understood what she really was, and what she was destined to be.

_A goddamn Pirate King_. She got that title over a lot of fight and maintained it with blood and resilience. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. After everything she went through, it was the minimum she should get. After all, she was a pirate. And pirates take and make as they please.

She looked down to herself, staring at her waistcoat and breeches, her remaining scars visible from her shirt' sleeves folded up to her elbows. There were tattoos spread over her arms lengths; skulls, a swan in her right forearm, tribal lines, rough and random sketches all over the place. Surely the last time he had put his feet on earth she didn't have much ink on her body.

_SHE'D KEEP PLAYING_ her _mother and wife role_, wrapping herself into a beautiful and fancy dress. And then she was holding Henry by her chest, waiting for the cursed man's landing, thinking about the paths her life had taken. She faked the brightest smile, the warmest embrace, the softest kiss. Over the course of those last years, she had learned how to set her feelings aside to guarantee Henry' safety and her own. Seized by her thoughts, Elizabeth recollected the events from that day, nearly ten years ago; the apprehension under each word she would direct to William Turner as she tried to gain more information about the awful rumors she heard about.

"_Is it true?_", she asked him, in disbelief. "_I cannot believe you betrayed all the cause due to your own affairs and standards, Will_". Elizabeth couldn't believe it. The rumors that were spreading around the seven seas and then arriving to her ears were that William Turner, _the New Davy Jones_, and the East India Company were working side by side. It was not new to her, William's despise for piracy and pirates, but she couldn't let herself _believe_. "_Jack saved you_", she said, bluntly, as he gave her no answer. "_You are alive because of him_", taking a deep breath, Elizabeth continued, "_You are… you are hunting him_".

"_As the Dutchman's captain, I'm fulfilling my duty_". He gave her a hatred look. "_Pirates are outlaws, therefore, it's only their destiny to get entangled by the Dutchman's deck and by its Captain. Besides, the rumors out there are that Jack Sparrow is dead. Fortunately, or not, he was not received within the Dutchman_", he said, sighing. Unfaltering, he reinstated, "_I can only advise you to keep yourself away from this outrageous world_".

There it was. _His first threat_.

_I'm the Pirate King_, she wanted to say, but didn't have enough strength. The idea of Jack actually being dead hunted her for the last years, and it was a subject she didn't like bringing into any kind of conversation. Overlooking through the window, her eyes stopped on Henry's frame, playing on the beach with his wooden sword and a bandana in a faded tone of blueish-green. She let a smile come up to her face, but it was gone as soon as William called back her attention.

"_You should also take this preposterous idea from Henry's mind_", he said, finishing his soup. With a disgusted expression upon his face, he resumed, "_Why did you let him believe that piracy is such a good thing for the world?_".

"_His parents __**are**_ _pirates_", Elizabeth answered, no emotions coming through her mouth.

"_Your assumptions about my post as the Dutchman's Captain are yours and only yours. I fought beside pirates because my father was one of them. But it was never his wish for me to become a pirate_", he paused, picking up the bowl and spoon and raising from his chair. "_I fought beside pirates because I needed to __**save him**_ _from this damned world_".

"_Your father was a good man… and a pirate. Piracy is not only about treasures, pilling, drinking and profanities_".

"_Not only?_", his voice came out in a chuckle. "_What else is there about piracy, then?_"

"_It's about freedom, William_", Elizabeth stiffened in her position at the table, her teeth clenched in a beginning rage. "_It has always been about freedom_".

"_You've always been free, Elizabeth. Born rich, having the best education in the world, the best maids and the best food. A loving and involved father. You had everything any child in any place of this world would crave for. But it was not enough_".

She looked at him, her mouth dropped, questioning herself if it was worth it, to continue that conversation. Years had passed and William couldn't understand the _true meaning of freedom_. Elizabeth suppressed a smile, remembering all the conversations she had _with a certain pirate_ about all these matters.

They remained silent for a while. William seemed to digest his own words. Taking a deep breath, he set the dirty dishes inside the bowl over a tiny table in the kitchen area. He rolled up his sleeves and slowly did the dishes, as if expecting Elizabeth to go further in their previous conversation.

"_Do you actually believe I was free?_", she finally said. "_You wouldn't even look in my eyes, because you were afraid of the consequences. I couldn't walk alone by the beach or read whatever pleased me. I couldn't wear comfortable clothes or do my hair the way I wanted to. I was forced into piano lessons that I hated, into social events that made me feel sick. I couldn't play with the boys, because it was not a _lady behavior_; I had no friends because I was trapped on Port Royal's aristocracy. My father wouldn't let me play with the poor children for it was not appropriate. I was not only trapped on a piece of land, I was trapped inside myself. So tell me, Will… was I really free?_".

"_You mistake freedom with the absence of responsibilities, Elizabeth_".

Elizabeth knew she couldn't stand that much longer.

"_You had a hard life, Will, I know that, I've been one of its witnesses. I was born in a rich home, with a sweet but busy father, and no mother or any figure that could replace her. We both had different childhoods, but in its core, it was indeed the same. Lost and lonely children_", she paused, reflecting. "_There's no need to envy a past of a sorrow richness_"_. _

"_I do not envy your past. But I think you're not aware of how free you actually were…_"

"_I could barely breathe!_", she said, agony shouting out from her eyes. She took a time to recompose herself, trying not to lose her temper. She couldn't get him angry. It would only make things difficult. But she would not lose the argument either. "_I was not free. I was… controlled in every aspect of my life. If you are controlled, how could you call yourself a free person?_".

He seemed to evaluate her statements. "_What makes you think piracy is what gives you freedom in this world?_", it was his time to question. "_When you are hunted or enslaved, whipped, marked, __**killed**__?_".

"_So where does the difference lies on? Being common folk means you're probably going to be killed, enslaved, whipped or marked. Exactly because you're not free. Freedom is not about just come and go wherever and whenever it pleases you; it's a matter of choices. The opportunity to choose. If I cannot choose what clothes to wear, what food to eat, what places to go, whom to lie with, whom to follow or not to… then none of us is actually free. Piracy… piracy gives us the right to choose_".

"_It is, __**yet**__, a lack of responsibilities_", he groaned. Sensing her temper getting lost, he added: "_Let us talk about this no further"_.

She couldn't agree more.

_THE NEXT FEW_ hours ahead that dreadful conversation were as painful as Elizabeth thought it would be. He asked her about her life on the island; she had to lie once more considering William's despise for her _real actions _as the Pirate King. Well, for dear William Turner, Elizabeth Swann had become a mother and a brilliant housewife. She had already warned the men under her command how things would go during Turner's upcoming. They didn't enjoy the idea of setting themselves aside, nor the fact that their King would so easily bend the knee to a man like William. On the other hand, it didn't take them that much time to understand the real meanings under her plan of actions: _the King was afraid_. Not for herself, though, but for her child.

So she told him their food came from the garden behind the house. That she sold bread, pies and cakes in order to buy clothes and obtain certain services and tools she couldn't make herself. William's judging gaze upon her all the time. He accepted her story and let it go, the subject changing from the way of their living to Henry. The boy was not ten yet, but was clever as his mother, a fast learner and was finally showing how much of a good swordsman he would be in the future.

She laughed at that thought. If her son was in their presence now, he would gladly correct her: "_Not a swordsman. A pirate!_". Elizabeth was actually relieved Henry was not present. However, there was nothing she could have done to shut his mouth during their dinner.

"_I see you're attracted to swordfight_", William started the conversation after an uncomfortable silence set upon the table. He waited the boy finish the food in his mouth.

"_Yes, father_", he said, obviously distressed. Elizabeth looked towards Henry, encouraging him to continue. "_I train everyday by the morning_", he was playing with the food in his plate, avoiding William's gaze, perhaps thinking about what to say. "_Sometimes I use two swords_", he smiled at Elizabeth, who returned the smile willingly, caressing her son's left cheek. "_Sometimes I just train my reflexes and defence!_", the kid looked at Will, suddenly realizing something. "_We could train tomorrow morning!_"

There was a painful grin on William's lips. "_I'm afraid we won't be able to train, son_".

"_Why not?_", the boy was obviously confused. The gears inside his cunning mind started working faster as he spoke again, "_So… you are still cursed_". Henry seemed disappointed, with sad and raged traces upon his face. He began to consider solutions to the problem, as his eyebrows twisted in a way that Elizabeth has seen more than a thousand times, his dark brown eyes sparkling in the ambient low light. Something twisted in her stomach. She reached for her son's hand and clasped it between hers, not knowing if it would give _him_ or _her_ enough strength to keep going in that conversation. "_What if… what if there was a way to break the curse?_", Henry said, hopeful. "_Then you could stay, we could train and sail together!_".

William studied the boy for a moment, his eyes tracing every aspect laid on Henry's face. He clenched his jaw, a sudden movement, making Elizabeth squeeze Henry's hand harder. "_There's no way to break the curse_".

_It's the only thing keeping you alive_. Elizabeth looked towards Will, the man in front of her lost in his own thoughts. _And yet, you feel like you have no heart at all, don't you?_

"_Why not?_".

"_It's a complicated matter for a lad so young like you_", he answered, ignoring Henry's gaze, finishing his food. "_And I'll always be there, outside, under and above the seas. Isn't that an interesting fact? You've got an immortal father_", he faked a smiled at the boy, "_It means I will live as long as you could want and expect me to_".

"_And then I'd be dead_", Henry said, abruptly. "_And mother would be dead before me. And everyone else… because you're immortal_", he stared at his almost empty plate, letting his spoon fall onto it. "_Why don't you visit us more? You can't put your feet on land, but we __**could**_ _meet you on the Dutchman's deck_".

"_It doesn't work like that, son_".

"_Because it just doesn't or because… because you don't want it to work?_". The kid was obviously holding up his attitude, trying not to yell at Will, as his hands closed into fists, his knuckles white, his eyes redning. "_I don't believe you. If you met grandpa on the Dutchman, why can't we?_".

"_Oh… so your mother told you about your grandfather?_".

"_Do not change the subject!_", Henry raised his voice a bit, looking into William's eyes fearless. The boy noticed he had overstepped his boundaries when he heard the man's hands against the wooden table, loud and clear. He continued, though, his boldness very clear in his face, "_Why don't you let __**us**_ _visit __**you**__? Are you ashamed of us? Mother says you don't approve the life we have… Why don't you tell her she's wrong?_".

"_What kind of life do you have?_", the man said, trying to read the boy's expressions.

The kid took a deep breath, sounding like William had just asked the stupidest question in the world, "_A pirate's life_".

Elizabeth swallowed thickly, her eyes shut abruptly. Well, she knew she couldn't hold Henry's tongue inside his mouth — he had a strong personality, just like his mother _and father_. If only he knew why…

"_What do you mean by that, lad?_".

"_You know what I mean_", he slurped his spoon, "_You are a pirate too. We are alike, aren't we? The difference is that you are always by the sea, and we are not…. And of course, we are free. And we take what is ours_".

"_Well, your mother is not wrong; I am ashamed of your __**way of living**__. I'm not a pirate, Henry, I'm merely a captain, accomplishing my duties. Unfortunately, I have to live on the sea. And I hope you follow these standards no more. I want to see you grown into a respectful man, not a disgraced soul_".

"_What __**do you**_ _mean by that?_", the boy was horrified, red as a tomato, as if he had just been slapped right on his cheeks. "_Pirates __**are respectful **_**and** _**respected**__! We… we do not bow! No lords or ladies are going to tell us what to do!_".

"_All right, that's enough. You are just a child, I won't blame you. It's your mother's fault if you have these nonsensical ideas inside your little mind_", William sighed loudly, pushing his plate aside. "_Pirates are dangerous and barbaric. This pirate life of yours is deadly and harmful. I don't know exactly what you mother told you… to convince you that… Being on the Dutchman is a good idea, a good life, and… becoming a pirate is the right choice and path. Well, none of these are. You need to reevaluate your standards. Do you want to be seen side by side with murderers, thieves, rapists, violent men?_".

"_Uncle Jack is not like that! Mother is not like that! Not every pirate is what __**you**_ _assume they are!_". Henry raised from his chair, anger flushing through his face, palms closed against the wooden table. He looked deep inside William's eyes, almost threatening, confronting him with all of his soul.

Elizabeth couldn't feel prouder. She knew she should shush his words aways, take her son to his bedroom in order to prevent further discussions. She just couldn't — _her son_ was _so goddamn _certain of himself, and _so right_ that she couldn't stop him. It would be not only sad, but heartbreaking.

"_Henry is right_", she joined the conversation, giving William no time to speak, "_pirates are not what you assume they are_", she stood up, stacking the dishes. She traded a look with her son, the child holding his beautiful smile on the edge of his lips. "_And yes, Uncle… Jack is not like that, neither am I_", she sighed, approaching Henry and leaving a light kiss on his forehead. She now faced Will, strong and dense, jaw clenched. Her sigh was giving her enough time to _truly see him_. He hated her _now_, knowing she would never let him _teach _or _try to educate_ **her** _son_. "_It's late, sweetie. Time to go to bed_", she hugged him and gave him another kiss, caressing his thin hair. She felt Henry loosen up under her arms, releasing a sigh of his own.

"_I'm sorry for yelling_", the boy said. _That's my son_. "_It was not fitting_". He gave William a last look, "_I'm sorry, father_".

"_That's okay_", William cuddled Henry's right hand over de table. "_As I said, you're too young. Once you grow up, you'll understand my true meanings_".

Elizabeth gave him a disapproval look, one he made a point of ignoring.

Henry said his good-nights and finally went to his bedroom. She was — once more, unfortunately — alone with William now, only the sounds of her cleaning the room echoing around. She was making her best to avoid his presence, focusing on the dirty dishes, detached, letting her indifference set up in the air.

It'd have been so much easier if William didn't have become a traitor. _So much easier_. She couldn't even bare her anxiety while around him, memories from the past crushing on her mind, concernantings about the present and the future. _He's hunting pirates. He's hunting __**us**_. Her sailors' voices ringing inside her head, _what are you going to do, King?_

She hated when she was right — in the back of her mind, Elizabeth knew William was bend to opposite paths than her companiors and herself. She just didn't want to be _so right_. Since she was _very fucking right_ from the _very fucking beginning_, even if her heart would try to tell her otherwise, she prepared herself, for Elizabeth _also knew_ what that curse could make to a man's mind; what that curse could make to _Will's mind_.

She also hated herself now for being _so coward_. A life of cowardice.

And now, not only it seemed she was the most coward person in the world, she felt threatened, angry, sad and _**mostly **_impotent. Her hands tied as she finished cleaning, her hands still tied as she moved her tired body to Henry's bedroom, to give him his last good-night kiss and bedtime story. Another loud sigh came through Elizabeth's lips and she entered Henry's room, silently. His tiny figure was sitting on the bed, surrounded by papers, pencils, maps and a compass; well, _this_ was almost his night routine, trying to find a way to the depths of the oceans. Trying to figure out how to _break father's curse_. Everytime her son came to her with ideas, they all seemed silly and impossible. And then he stuck to one of them, once he found that damn book about ocean myths and curses. _Poseidon's Trident_. She knew, deep down, it was nearly impossible to find _and_ it wouldn't break William's burden.

Approaching the bed, she realized what most of the papers were; _wanted posters_. She picked up one of them, analysing the picture poorly illustrating Jack Sparrow's figure, with a prize worth nearly nothing. Elizabeth chuckled; _this is ridiculous_. Not only the illustration itself, but the prize and all of the circumstances. She observed Henry again, completely lost in himself, grabbed to one of those posters, eyes shining like two stars high in a clear night sky. He rubbed his finger over the black ink on the poster and released a sigh of his own. The boy seemed disappointed.

She sit on the bed beside him, enveloping Henry's frame with her arms.

"_What is it? What is bothering you?_", she asked, kissing the top of his head.

"_Father… didn't even let me go through my plan_", he finally relaxed and laid his head on Elizabeth's right shoulder. He look up at her, a plain sadness in his eyes. "_Why does he hates us?_".

"_He doesn't, sweetie. Your… father…_", the boy now analysed the wanted posters, and Elizabeth wasn't able to hold a low suffering sigh, "_thinks differently. He doesn't enjoy life the same way we do. Just that_".

"_Why not?_".

"_We are all free to choose whatever we are going to believe or do, remember?_"

"_Bullshit_", he said almost inaudibly, trying to hide the curse word from his mother. "_He is lying, isn't he? I heard father saying that Uncle Jack is dead. I know he isn't. He's smart enough to worth nearly nothing. See? This way… nobody is gonna get him. Because he worths nothing_".

Elizabeth laughed at him, squeezing Henry against her. "_Yes, you're right. Uncle Jack is that smart_", she kissed his temple, "_and so are you. But you father's curse is not that simple, sweetie. It can't be broken unless—_"

"_Unless someone takes his place. I know. But what if there's another way?_"

"_I'm afraid there's not. However… that doesn't mean you have to give up already_".

Henry gave her a wide smile, grabbing one of the wanted posters and turning his body to Elizabeth. "_We need to find Uncle Jack!_".

Her heart nearly sank with that. Even if Elizabeth had been training herself throughout the last years, to deal with the idea of Jack's not only absence but _complete disappearance_, everytime somebody talked about him, _about finding him_, it would always make her heart skip a beat, an aching pain in her chest like some wound had just been found and stripped over. She embraced Henry again, hiding her face in his hair. As Elizabeth closed her eyes, those memories buried in her mind came all out of a sudden; that miserable day, in that ambush no one had foreseen... when _**she **_lost _him_.

Elizabeth couldn't help the tears that started forming in her eyes. She took a deep breath, holding those tears as much as she could.

"_Mom… are you alright?_", Henry must have noticed she was trembling, for he untangle himself from her and brought her face to his eyes level. "_Everytime I talk about finding Uncle Jack you get like this. Do you… do you think he's… actually dead?_".

She didn't know how to answer. Maybe one day she would tell her son what really happened to _Uncle_ Jack. All was happening at the same time, and everything she could remember was the screams of the sailors under her leadership, all the blood, grime and explosions. It took minutes or hours until it ended, and when she came back from the battle, he was not there or anywhere. Jack was missen, thrown to the sea after a cannonball hit the area around him, too close to him.

_But he's Captain Jack Sparrow. He's alive. He must be. He must have found a way to get out of this. _She kept telling that to herself, a thousand times per day. Ten years after she didn't know exactly what to feel, think or expect, since nobody could tell her if he was dead or alive. Many have said he was alive, but much more than that said Jack Sparrow's figure had not be seen in the last years, besides his wanted posters.

"_No, sweetie, I don't_", she answered him, a cracked smile on her face. Putting one strand of Henry's hair behind his ear, she continued, "_I think Uncle Jack is solving some personal issues, maybe? Remember when I told you he gets into troubles __**so**_ _goddamn easy?_".

The boy giggled and shaked his head positively. "_Yes, I do remember. Just like me, right?_"

"_Yes_", Elizabeth sighed happily, "_Just like you. The difference is that you're just a kid, and Uncle Jack is an adult. You may also remember I explained to you that our actions have consequences, right? That's why adults have to deal with their own problems_".

"_And their children's problems too_", Henry laughed.

"_Yes, you could say that. But you could help your mother a little bit, trying not get in __**any more trouble**_", she said, teasing him and poking his belly. Henry laughed harder and louder, catching his breath when Elizabeth finally stopped. She kissed his temple and fixed the bed for him. Pulling some strands of his hair from his eyes, she gave him a last kiss on his forehead. "_Good night, sweetie. Have good dreams"_.

"_Mom?"_, he called her, just before she left the bedroom.

"_Yes?_"

"_I will find him. Uncle Jack. Eventually. You'll see_".

"_I'm sure you will. Just stay for the night, 'kay?_"

The boy giggled, "_sure, mom"_.

Elizabeth sighed and finally left.


	2. Chapter 1 - Part 2

_SHE STOOD THERE_, her back to Henry's door. Staring at the floor, she couldn't figure out what to do next. _Come on, Elizabeth. Just a few more hours. And everything is going to be back to normal_. The only thing she feared _were_ the next few hours in William's presence. Elizabeth Swann never imagined it would be so hard to deal with him. His ideas. His thoughts and manners. She was so used to piracy, to her new life, that Will — one of the biggest parts of her past and, _Gods have mercy_, her _present_ — came all in a rush to get _everything_ upside down.

He couldn't even look at her without that pity and disgusted look upon his face. He couldn't give Henry not even a sparkle of affection, hope or whatever else shit he could give him besides his raw opinions. William Turner had never seen the boy before and at least for the outsiders, it seemed he cared about Henry as much as he cared about a pet.

What Henry wanted the most was _saving his father's life_. She wanted to laugh out loud at that thought and cry, at the same time. First, Will made it very clear to Henry there was no way out of his damned situation. Second…

_Maybe he knows_.

That thought sent her a severe shriver down her spine. Taking a deep breath, she controlled her initial nervousness.

_Just a few more hours_, Elizabeth repeated to herself, as a mantra.

_HER ROOM WAS_ a dark thing and it was even darker at night. Earlier that day, she set more candles around the area, hoping it would give her quarters _a better tone_. The pale yellow half-light touched the wooden walls carefully; it could give one a warm sensation just looking at. Her bed was perfectly made, the best pillows she found, the most comfortable blankets. Everything sending just _one message_: here, _**I am in control**_. Unfortunately she hadn't foreseen Will's behavior towards her. He was _cold_. Demanding but distant. His touch resembling ice, burning her skin like he was trying to brand her _soul_. He left no marks, of course, he never would — but it also didn't mean he was being _affectionate_ neither _amorous_.

Through the act's extent, she kept her eyes closed, picturing a better image, better _sensations_ — someone else's body, voice, smell, _touch_. It has been ten years since the last time she _felt him_. They were aboard her own vessel, it was a sweet summer day, the caribbean waters sounding calm and distant. Her mind made her the good effort and favor of keeping those memories as alive as they could be. His calloused hands all over her body, tending to her deepest needs; his skin hot from the sunlight exposure and pleasure, its brown-like color contrasting against her nearly burnt own. He whispered sweet-nothings in her ears, tracing her with his lips. She used to believe that those _profanities_ she read in books her father wouldn't even imagine she had were all false — men used to seek for their own pleasures. Well, Jack Sparrow was the one to _teach_ her the opposite — but not only _that_. He taught her how to seek for _her own pleasure_, while his tongue ministrations in and out her folds and delicate clit would take her to the _up-and-down_ most women surely only dreamed of.

He unlocked a part of her she thought would never be found whilst their bodies were entangled, his cock and hips making the most marvelous movements and creating the fascinating sensations she, later on life, found out to be Jack's _exclusive magic_. And like that day, ten years before _this cursed night_, Jack was the only thing on her mind once she finished herself, her fingers dancing on her clit, her teeth and lips clenched so she wouldn't let his name get out from her throat in the most guttural and animalistic of sounds.

It didn't take William too long to finish. He collapsed by her side, his breath heavy and unsteady. She didn't have enough strength to open her eyes and face him; Elizabeth wanted to stay in that state of mind, the caribbean sun touching her as well as Jack's memory — and suddenly his absence took her like a sickness fever. She tightened her eyes harder, holding her tears with the remnants of her force. She swallowed hard, taking deep and quick breaths, trying to do it without being noticed. Fortunately, when she finally opened her eyes, William was already heavily asleep.

She felt disgusting and couldn't even bare herself now. Elizabeth didn't want William' _smell _over her body — it suddenly made her ill. With slow movements, she got out from the bedroom, her feet leading her out of the house. Elizabeth's body moved for its own, the cool sea breeze lightly touching her skin.

She took a deep breath, eyes closed in a restless mood, feeling the thin grass between her toes and finally the beach sand. When the first cold wave touched her, she released a sigh of relief as a shriver roamed from her feet to her scalp. As the water reached her breasts, she dived and stayed under it, swimming ahead until she felt breathless. Elizabeth found herself lost in the sea water, a striking fatigue taking away all the remaining strength she _thought _she had. Her eyes sought around and found a rock nearby the shore where she could hide for a while.

Sitting there with her face between her knees, she could feel her entire body shaking, although it was not _shivering _because of the cold; no, it was like she was healing from a ravishing heat. Elizabeth tried to purge her own demons, but was very unsuccessful. "_He's hunting us_", the words reverberated in her mind again. "_He's gonna kill us_". Even if she could hear it, in the back of her mind, her sweet childish voice echoing the years behind her, that William _could not turn that dim_, she couldn't listen. She was too damn afraid, panicking alone, leaning further against the rough wall behind her.

Elizabeth knew time was a mysterious thing once she realized her nightgown was almost dry. She looked at the moon; it was nearly three in the morning. Maybe she had fainted? She was feeling tired, for sure. _What if Will is awake?_, she dreaded. _Henry is alone there. I need to get back_.

Eventually recovering her stamina, she swimmed back to the shore. It didn't take that long until her wet figure roamed the house until her feet arrived in front of Henry's door. Slowly opening it, she released a sigh through her lips; _Henry is okay, thank the goddesses_.

"_Elizabeth_", a cold and dark voice called her. _He's awake_. Her heart sank again. She gave herself a few seconds of lost thoughts and loud sighs before turning her feet to him. Her face a blank page, her eyes shimmering with doubt, remorse, fear and anger. Elizabeth felt threatened and she hated feeling like that; above all, she hated feeling like in infant caught in mischief, mostly because the source of her panic and concerns was a man she swore never dread. She walked a few more steps, leaving a wet path behind her. He was sitting on a chair by the kitchen's window, his eyes roaming the coast nonchalantly. Then it hit her like a punch; _He was… watching me_. "_You were swimming_", he finally said, turning his head to her. "_Isn't it odd? Swimming in the middle of the night"_.

"_I needed some air_".

"_So you went out there to drown yourself_", he chuckled.

"_I… I'm not following. Swimming takes my anxiety away_".

"_I suppose I'm a heavy burden"._

"_You were asleep. I thought you wouldn't mind…"_

"_That's okay, you see? No one said it would be easy_", William made a long pause, his gaze upon the moon. "_I can't sleep, truth be told. When you spend most of your time under the water, everything seems to be _wrong_. I can't feel anything besides… boredom_", he sighed. "_And anger. You must ask why, and I will surely answer_", he raised from his chair and slowly walked towards her. "_I feel angry because I can't… feel. I feel no pain and also no joy. It has been ten years since the last time I actually tasted something. Of course, while I'm like _this", he pointed to himself, "_it all comes in a sudden, nonetheless… it doesn't mean I'm overwhelmed. It's like… all the feelings and sensations are just memories. Memories I can slightly touch. I'm doomed and… I'm also half-living because of this curse. I wonder… if… If I stay, will I go back to the depths of my death? Or will I be dragged back to the Dutchman's deck? Which would be better, Elizabeth? Or worse?_".

She didn't know what to say. She dared say _nothing_.

He got even closer now. "_I still have my duty to fulfill_", William traced her delicate features with his fingertips. It was like he was carving her into his mind. He leaned over her, "_An __**eternal **__debt to pay_", said before lightly caressing her forehead in a cold kiss. "_And you know exactly _why", he took her chin with his right hand and melded his lips on hers. Elizabeth stiffened, unable to move — either to go forward neither to go away. He kept his mouth over hers for a brief moment before retracting. William looked at her like he knew every thought inside her mind. His eyebrows twisted in a nearly painful expression and soon became the personification of self-knowing and wrath. "_Never presume on betraying me again_", he started, his hands on her shoulder blades. "_Be a kind and respectful wife as you should be_", he squeezed her, "_**savvy**__?_".

Elizabeth couldn't breathe. Her sight started to fade, bit by bit. She reunited all of her strengths just to keep awake. She never felt like that, not even when faced by an ambuscade — it was not a promise of _death_, it was something entirely different. Unknown. Unpredictable. She kept her facade, though, and he finally let her go, his fingers leaving red marks over her arms. "_I leave by the sunrise. Settle Henry's stupid ideas down. You are going to put this kid into trouble sooner than you expect if you keep telling him piracy is such a good thing for the world_".

"_Aren't you gonna say goodbye?_", she questioned him as he started leaving the room.

He contemplated her question for a moment. "_No_", it was all he said as he finally left.

After that, everything happened _so fast_. In the next morning, when Henry woke up seeking for William, and figured out his _father_ was already gone, the boy couldn't stop yelling and crying at her. "_He despises me!_", "_he hates us!_", "_why couldn't he wait for a little longer?_". All of the mates under her command would look at her and the boy in pity — "_you didn't deserve such a burden, King_".

She hated that. In an increasing rage she'd never felt before. Elizabeth Swann, the Pirate King, is the biggest pity subject amongst her crewmembers and Pirate Lords. The worst part was that she couldn't make anything to change that. _What is done, is done_. And for the first time on her existence, Elizabeth was hoping for a calm and quiet future.


End file.
